Pact of the Blade
by Ichabod Ebenezer
Summary: Castiel finds a safe place to leave the First Blade. As a fan of both Doctor Who and Supernatural, I'm always looking for ways to connect the two. This one's been sitting in the back of my mind for a while. This short story takes place between Supernatural 10.14 'The Executioner's Song', and DW17.3 'The Creature from the Pit' where it is seen in the Doctor's possesion.


Dean staggered down the steps to where Sam was standing with Castiel and Crowley. All three of them were amazed to see him. He didn't look at all well, but he did it. He survived.

"Dean?" Sam called to him, concern in his voice. Dean looked up and nodded toward him.

"Dean, the Blade." This time it was Crowley. He held his hand out toward Dean.

Dean looked down at his hand, holding the ancient jawbone of an ass. He flexed his fingers, as if testing them, making sure they'd be willing to let go.

He looked back up and took several steps toward Crowley. He held the blade up, looking at it again, then he met Crowley's eye and set his jaw. He put his arm out to the side and placed the Blade in Castiel's hand.

Castiel turned toward Crowley as well, prepared for a confrontation, but Crowley turned toward Dean instead. "You lied to me," he stated simply.

"It's not the first time today. Cain's list? You weren't on it."

Crowley's eyes narrowed in disappointment, and he took his leave.

Dean suddenly collapsed, and Sam reacted quickly, catching him before he could fall. "Hey, hey, hey. You did it, Dean. You did it."

Dean didn't speak, couldn't speak.

Sam looked up at Castiel. "Go, Cas! Get rid of that thing."

Castiel looked down at the Blade in his hand, then back at Sam. "I will. You can count on me." And with a flapping of wings, he disappeared.

* * *

I promised Sam that I would get rid of the Blade. I would of course do what I could. But where would be safe? Cain had thought that throwing it into the depths of the ocean would keep it out of his hand, but clearly that was insufficient.

My first thought was of my brothers and sisters. But even though I wanted to trust in them, they would almost certainly end up using it in their pointless war.

I could try what I did with the Angel Tablet. Biggerson's were out though. I couldn't risk innocent lives again. But no, that would require my full attention, and I was still needed to find a cure for the Mark. I owed Dean that much.

There was no safe place on Heaven or Earth. But the cosmos was a big place. Many other worlds existed out there. There were also forces that would seek out this Blade wherever I left it. And the Blade wants to be found — it wants to be used. Even now I could feel it trying to exert its influence on me.

And the Blade was mystically protected. If I tried to destroy it, by placing it in the heart of a sun or even dropping it into a black hole, the Blade's would be relocated to an inhabited world.

I had to find someone whose location could not be determined or predicted, someone constantly on the move. Someone who would never be tempted to use it.

* * *

The Doctor was sitting on the floor of the TARDIS with his back against the console. K-9 was sitting next to him, ears swiveling, and on the Doctor's lap was a cardboard box. He held an electronic module in one hand, and was rooting through a collection of components in the box with his other. "Now, I'm certain I placed your voice module in here during repairs. Where could it have gone?" He looked up and called out, "Leela!"

Suddenly the TARDIS lurched to the side, and the box of components leapt from his lap as the Doctor struggled to find something to hold onto. "What was that K-9?" The dog's ears wiggled in response. "Never mind."

He stood up at the console and checked a few sensors. "We're tearing through the wall of the vortex! Brace yourself K-9!" The console room shook again, more violently this time. The TARDIS engines strained to cope, and then it was over.

The engines and the room were still. He checked his sensors again. "We've rematerialized in normal space! We haven't landed though, we're just drifting! There isn't even a solar system within sensor range." He activated the monitor, displaying nothing but darkness out there.

"Never mind that now, K-9, how were we forced out of the vortex? Did we hit something?"

Leela entered the console room. "Doctor! All the books in the library jumped off the shelves! What has happened?"

"Oh, just a routine vortex ejection, Leela. Nothing to worry about. The books will be fine." He flipped a few switches authoritatively.

"And who is that?" she asked, drawing her knife.

Across the console from the two of them, stood a dark haired man with two days worth of stubble. His beige trench coat was rumpled and dirty, and his tie hung around his neck like a despised necessity.

"Ahh, hello, I'm the Doctor. I don't suppose you had something to do with pulling us out of the vortex?"

"Hello. I'm Castiel," he said haltingly. "I'm sorry, but I had to meet with you. The vortex wasn't secure enough."

"Not secure en— it exists outside space and time!"

"Exactly. Who knows who could have been watching you."

"Who is this, Doctor?"

"Well, not many entities can simply _will_ a TARDIS out of the vortex, or board her without my invitation for that matter. Unless I miss my guess, Castiel is a multidimensional wavelength of Celestial intent."

"And what is your intent, Celestial?" she demanded, brandishing her blade.

"Please, I'm in a hurry. It's taken all my energy to arrange this meeting. I mean you no harm—"

"And yet you damage our ship and force your way aboard. Be careful Doctor, this one lies."

"That was unfortunate, but necessary. Please, I need to talk—" He started toward the Doctor, reaching inside his trench coat and grasping the handle of the First Blade.

"He draws his weapon!" Before anyone else could react, Leela charged in, pinning his arm at the wrist, and plunging her knife into his chest.

Castiel looked down at the knife handle protruding from his chest and the girl on his arm. He reached out with two fingers and touched her forehead. Her eyes rolled back and she slumped to the ground.

"If you've hurt her—"

"She is only asleep," Castiel said, as diplomatically as he could.

"Asleep at a touch? You really must teach me that trick."

"It's a simple matter of reaching into her mind and raising the delta waves to the point of occlusion," Castiel said absently as he pulled the dagger from his chest. He dropped it to the ground next to Leela. "Physical contact just helps facilitate the connection."

"You're bleeding, you know."

Castiel looked down at his chest, where red was starting to bloom against the white of his shirt.

"My grace has been damaged. Shredded might be a better word. I can't waste time or energy healing that now."

"Still, it's disconcerting."

"That's not what I came here for." He reached inside his coat again, and pulled out the First Blade.

The Doctor gripped the console a bit tighter. "Is that what I think that is?" he asked in hushed tones.

"If you think this is the First Blade, the implement by which murder was first conceived and delivered, then yes."

"Oh, hogwash. People have been murdering each other across the universe for millennia before the Earth even cooled."

"Yes, but not on Earth. I think you understand that the Earth is special."

"Yes, I've always thought so. I trust you didn't bring that here to kill me, hmm?"

"No. It must never taste of blood again. No one must find it. No one can ever be sure again where, or even when it is."

"Ahh. And you're hoping that my chaotic wanderings will make it difficult to track. Tell me, Castiel, if you're so certain no one will find it with me, how exactly did you track me down?"

"I…" Castiel looked away from the Doctor. "I used its power to create a fixed point. It was the only way."

"Well. And if even a Celestial could be so tempted, what makes you think that I won't use it?"

The Doctor's tone had turned dark. For a moment, Castiel believed it might be possible. But no.

Castiel walked to the TARDIS console, and looked over the vast array of controls. Finally he gave up and pulled open an access panel.

"What do you think you're —"

Castiel grasped a handful of wires and closed his eyes, in touch with the soul of the TARDIS. The monitor came to life.

There stood the Doctor, a look of utter anguish on his face. He held two wires a scant centimeter apart. "Just touch these two strands together, and the Daleks are finished… Have I that right?"

The Doctor paused while watching himself on screen, an unaccustomed seriousness about him. "Who's to say I haven't learned from that moment's hesitation?"

Castiel stood back up, facing the Doctor. "I believe you have learned from that. I believe that if I put you back in that moment, you would throw those wires aside and find a different way. That is the reason I believe you would make a better curator for this than I."

Castiel held the blade out on his open palm. The Doctor stared down at it.

Suddenly the Doctor's hand shot out and he took the First Blade. "Well, if you're so certain then. I believe I have just the place for it." He walked past Castiel and pried open one of the roundels that decorated the walls of the console room.

Inside was a plexi-glass box, with an enormous ball of string, and various other odds and ends. The Doctor casually tossed the First Blade inside and shut the roundel.

Castiel, offended, took a step toward the blade's new hiding spot, then stopped himself. No, I must trust in his random nature, he thought.

"I must return," he said.

The Doctor returned to the console. "So, I'm free to go then? You sure I can't drop you somewhere?"

"No!" Castiel said with a little more force than necessary. "No. Not even I can know where you go from this point."

There was the sound of swooping wings, and the Doctor was alone in the console room with K-9 and a sleeping Leela.

"She looks quite peaceful," he said to no one in particular, but then he focused on that blood stained knife next to her. "What do you think, K-9? Should we wake her up?" He looked over at the tin dog, then banged his head with his palm. "What am I asking you for? I still haven't found your voice module."

He spun the dial that set their destination, paying no attention to where it landed, and pushed the big lever forward.

The TARDIS reentered the vortex.


End file.
